My name is Anu Mehta. By now, I am known in the police station as the married whore who services the entire force every Friday. Satya drops me off, watches me disappear inside. He then waits like a good cuckold while dozens of officers use me for hours.
My holes are rarely empty anymore. My body is marked with their bites, bruises, and permanent writing under my clothes.
One Wednesday evening, Patel called Satya’s phone. He put it on speaker so I could hear.
“We have a job for your wife,” he said. “High-end nightclub sting. Drugs and illegal gambling in the vip rooms. We need bait that looks like a high-class escort. Your slut is perfect.”
Satya’s voice shook. “Yes, Sir… she’ll do whatever you need.”
Patel laughed. “Good cuckold. Bring her on Friday. Dress her like a rich man’s whore.”
I cum just hearing it.
Friday night, Satya dressed me himself. Tiny silver sequin dress — backless, front plunging to my navel. No bra. No panties. The hem barely covered my ass. Thigh-high black stockings with seams up the back.
Six-inch silver heels. Hair in loose waves. Smoky eyes. Blood-red lips. A thin silver chain around my waist with a small police badge charm hidden against my skin — their private joke.
Patel met us at the station first. Inspected me like property. He lifted the dress. Checked I was bare underneath. Slid two fingers inside me easily.
“Already wet. Perfect.”
He fit a tiny hidden mic and camera in the badge charm. Audio and video are fed live to the surveillance van and to Satya’s phone.
Satya was told to park two blocks away in an unmarked car. He would listen to everything on earphones. Watch the feed on a tablet. No touching himself until the op was over.
Patel kissed my mouth hard. Bit my lip.
“Seduce the targets. Let them touch. If they want more in the vip booth, give it. We’ll move in after we have evidence.”
I smiled. “Yes, Sir. I’ll make them confess… and cum.”
The club was packed. Thumping bass. Flashing lights. Smell of expensive perfume and money.
Patel’s team had pointed out the three targets: Vikram, Rohan, and Sunny. Rich. Mid-30s. Handsome. Known for moving drugs and running underground poker in the VIP lounges.
I walked straight to their table. Hips swaying slowly. Vikram saw me first. Eyes devoured.
“Looking for company, gentlemen?”
Rohan grinned, “Always for a woman like you.”
They bought me drinks. Hands on my thighs instantly. I laughed. Leaned in so my tits almost spilt out. Within twenty minutes, we were in their private VIP booth. Curtains half-drawn. Low lights. Couch big enough for sin.
Vikram pulled me onto his lap. Hand straight under my dress. Found bare pussy.
“Fuck… no panties. You came ready.”
I ground on him.
“I like to be accessible.”
Rohan filmed on his phone. Sunny poured champagne on my chest. Licked it off my nipples through the sequins. I moaned loud enough for the mic.
“Yes… touch me… I want all three of you.”
Vikram fingered me roughly. Two fingers. Then three.
“So wet already. You’re a proper slut.”
Me: “Your slut tonight… do whatever you want.”
Sunny pulled my dress down. Tits out. Mouth on my nipples. Biting hard. Rohan opened his pants. Thick cock out. Pulled my head down. I took him deep. No hesitation.
“Mmm… yes… feed me.”
Vikram stood. Lifted me. Bent me over the table. Dress around my waist. Spit on my pussy. Slammed in.
“Oh fuck… yes.”
He fucked hard. The table shook.
Me: “Harder… fuck me as if you own me.”
Sunny in my mouth now. Vikram is in my pussy. Rohan is filming closely. I looked at the hidden badge cam. I knew Satya was watching. Knew the team was recording.
I screamed around Sunny’s cock.
“I’m your whore… use me.”
First orgasm hit. Squirting on Vikram’s cock. They laughed.
Vikram: “She squirts. Perfect.”
They rotated. Sunny took my pussy. Bigger. Stretched me wide.
“Fuck… so thick… yes.”
Rohan is in my ass. No lube but my own wetness.
“Scream, slut.”
Me: “Ahhh… both holes… fill me.”
I cum again. Harder. Body shaking. Vikram filmed my face. Made me look at the camera.
“Tell us what you are.”
Me (gasping): “I’m a married slut… here to fuck criminals… and cops… yes, deeper.”
That was the confession trigger. Suddenly, the curtains ripped open. Patel and eight armed officers stormed in.
“Police! Hands up!”
The three targets froze. Cocks out. Pants down. I stayed bent over. Cum is already dripping. Patel cuffed them fast. Read rights. Then looked at me. Smiled dark.
“Good work, slut. Evidence secured.”
He nodded to his team. The armed officers didn’t leave. Patel locked the booth door again.
“Targets secured in the van. Now we celebrate the successful op.”
Eight officers. All in tactical gear. Vests. Boots. Guns holstered. They pushed the criminals’ table aside. Laid me on the long couch.
Patel first. Lifted my legs over his shoulders. Slammed into my used pussy.
“Fuck… yes, Sir… reward your slut.”
He pounded brutally.
Patel: “Tell the mic what’s happening.”
Me (screaming): “Baby… eight cops are gangbanging me now… in the vip booth… their cocks are so much better than the criminals… ahhh fuck me harder.”
Satya’s breathing loud in the earpiece. One officer fed me his cock. Tasted like gun oil and authority. Another took my ass. Double again.
“Oh god… both holes… police cocks own me.”
They rotated savage. One after another breeding my pussy.
“Take our loads… good undercover whore.”
I came nonstop. Squirting on tactical pants. One fingered my pussy slowly while another fucked my throat.
“Feel that, slut? Whole hand inside…”
Me: “Yes… stretch me… ruin your married toy.”
Another used my hair to wipe his cock clean. They wrote on my body with club pens.
“Undercover cumdump,” across tits.
“Station whore” on thighs.
Hours. The booth reeked of sex. Finally, Patel is last.
Made me ride him reverse. Facing the hidden cam.
He held the badge charm up.
“Tell your husband the truth.”
Me (bouncing hard, voice wrecked): “Satya… I’m not coming home the same… I belong to the force now… my pussy… my ass… my mouth… all police property… I’m never just yours again… Ah, I’m cumming.”
I squirted one last time all over Patel’s uniform. He filled me deep. They dressed. Left me on the couch. Dress ruined. Body painted. Cum is leaking everywhere.
Patel tossed my trench coat over me.
“Next op in two weeks. Bigger club. More targets.”
I smiled weakly. “Yes, sir… anytime.”
Satya waited in the car. Eyes red. Cock still hard. He didn’t speak. Just drove home. Fucked my destroyed holes slowly. Crying into my neck.
Me: “It’s okay, baby… You knew this would happen.”
He came weak inside me. Mixed with twenty other loads. I fell asleep full. Already counting days to the next sting. I am their undercover slut now.
And I love it.
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